


Shall I Compare Thee ... ?

by dramady



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7312750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But then, who can explain Aramis? Not even God could, I'd wager."  </p>
<p>Porthos remembers. But then, he never forgets.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <span class="small">(Set after Season 3, so there are some spoilers.)</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Shall I Compare Thee ... ?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

No, it isn't as if I didn't know what I was getting into. You don't get as far as I have done without knowing and remembering every minute and every step of the way. From the bottom to the top, every foot I pulled meself up or was helped along. Every experience that made me the man I am today. 

Thing is that I always wanted more. Would never have left the Court if I didn't. 

Not that that explains it. But then, who can explain Aramis? Not even God could, I'd wager. Not that I'll have a chance to ask him (God, that is. I figure I'll head in the other direction when it comes time). 

No, Aramis is his own creation. The mold broke after him. And all things considered, I know his _type_ , but he's more than just that. He's no one thing, Aramis. He's much too complicated for that. Takes pride in that, I think. Wants to be _more_. And he is. Even I can't say I know him entirely. 

Not for lack of trying.

All that to say I should've known better. I should've known that he was going to be a different kind of trouble from what I'd grown accustomed to. But I dare you to have him look _you_ in the eye and give you that cock-eyed grin and not have you end up just in the same straits I was in. 

Who am I fooling? Still am in in the way that a sharp pain dulls to a throb, then to something that you live with and don't even think about most days.

It's funny what the heart can get used to. Like a tree that grows around something else and just keeps going.

I think only Athos is immune to Aramis's charms and that's because his heart was mostly dead for a long time. 

No, Aramis is a lot of things. And all of those things I love. Have from the beginning. Always will, I reckon. 

Guess I'd better start at the start if you're so intent on knowing me story. But it'll be quick. Only have so much time before me daughter wakes up and I want to be there when she does, and some secrets will be me own. 

Might surprise you (or maybe it won't) to know that not all the regiment welcomed me with open arms. Even if I did earn me way in didn't mean that the other Musketeers were gracious about me being there at first. It was Aramis, right from the start, who acted as if the color of me skin wasn't of any consequence. It wasn't any more or less who I was than my name or me sword. He didn't pity me either. We would've come to blows had that been the case. But he just sat down next to me that first supper time and talked as if we'd already been friends for a lifetime or two. Found meself telling him things I hadn't told anyone. He's good at that, just getting people to open up like that. It's a skill I don't have or want to cultivate. Aramis, though, he listens and only a time or two did he use what he knew against me. Not even intentionally, I think. He just _knew_ me. 

Anyway, after that, we was fast friends. Missions together, meals together, even the occasional hunt for a patroness together. More than a few nights spent sleeping on the hard ground with a pistol within reach on one side, Aramis on the other.

'Case you're curious, Aramis wasn't much for jealousy outside of Alice, so far as I know. Think he thought I might actually leave, then, and he wasn't ready for it. I'll remember that look on his face for the rest of me days: the relief when I told him I was staying to watch over him. Not sure he meant for me to see that look, but I did. Made everything all right, that look. 

What? No, by the time Elodie came into my life, I'd resigned myself to what had been those years prior and wouldn't be again. My heart had grown around that root and just kept going.

It had never been anything we ever talked about. There wasn't much point of talking about it, not really. It was against the laws of both God and Man. Not that I cared much about the former, since He didn't much care for me, but I didn't want to be hung nor did I want to see Aramis hung. 

It was our secret, I suppose. It was everything in those moments, then it was something. It was always something. A part of me, like my name, or the color of me skin, or even me sword.

Which is what made him leaving that much harder. 

Truth told, I never really got over that, even if me heart kept beating. There are just some things in life that leave their mark on you, I think. Aramis walking away like that, wanting to fulfill his promise to God? (His words, not mine.) That's another of those moments I'll carry with me to me grave. 

But I'll remember how he smelled and how he tasted too. That spot right behind his ear… 

Never mind that. 

No surprise that growing up in the Court lets you see some things. So I knew things that went on between all manner and combination of people. I was just never that interested. Not before Aramis and not after, either. I don't know what that says except that I have good taste. Ha.

That he was interested in me, well, there's no explaining that, I figure. Me. What with all the scars, most of which he sewed up. So, maybe it was partly him admiring his own handiwork, but it wasn't just that. It was never just that. He touched me like I was something whole and good and _worthy_. Worthy of being worshipped. 

Nobody ever touched me that way. Nobody looked at me like that, either. Not before him or even after him. 

To be clear, I don't feel sorry for meself. 

See, when a man like Aramis loves you, you take all you can get of it, sop it up, and keep that taste on your tongue long as you can. Store away the memories like paintings that you can put on the wall of your mind when you want to experience them again. But not too often. Too rich and too vivid to stare at all the time. 

I've had plenty of good in me life and I savored each bit of it. Aramis is a big part of that, but he isn't all of it. 

He wouldn't want to be, I think. He's vain, but even he's not that vain. 

We don't talk so often these days. Paths don't cross so much since the war ended, but they cross enough. He still smells the same when I hug him too, still feels the same, though he's getting a bit more stout across the middle. Don't think I don't tease him about that. All that rich food in the Louvre's making him soft, I tell him. 

He's happy too, being close to the Queen like he is. Close to his son. 

Come to think of it, that's one thing - the one thing - that me and the Dauphin share. We're both Aramis' secrets.

Sometimes, I think he's made up of secrets. 

But I _like_ remembering that I'm one of those secrets. Maybe I'm even one of those paintings up on the wall of his mind that he looks at now and again, but not too often.

I think I am one of those special secrets sometimes what with how he looks at me when he thinks I don't see. He should know by now I always see. Part of me is still looking for him to have me back again, like those old days. 

Little Claire is stirring and Marie-Suzette will be back with her mother soon enough. So, that's my time up and that's my story, or as much of it as I'm going to tell. Aramis isn't the only one with secrets. But he told me I'd be back from the war and I came back. I've been faithful to Elodie and always will be.


End file.
